Game, Set and
by JMK758
Summary: Tim McGee challenges Caitlin Todd to a wrestling match but the rules keep changing!


Disclaimer: Belisarius Productions owns everything about NCIS. I'm just having some fun with it.

Rating: M. Consensual Sex.

Teaser: Tim challenges Kate to a wrestling match. But the rules keep changing.

Match

By JMK758

It was four hours past Shift, 2100 hours, and despite the exhausting schedule that Kate Todd tried to maintain in a mountain of investigations to get them ready for Gibb's meeting with them in the morning, she could not rest. Whether it was because of or in spite of the tensions, the result was the same. She was entering the gym at this unconscionable hour to work off enough energy so she could sleep.

She could not have been more surprised to come into the room and find Agent Tim McGee working out already. He was working with some hand weights, curling 30 lbs in each hand, his biceps straining with the effort. He glanced up enough to notice her. "Hi." He called, his voice straining with the effort. Kate tried not to stare, but the fact that he was doing this without a shirt, just wearing a pair of small blue shorts, did not help at all.

"Hello." She called back, shaking her attention back from where it had been riveted on his… "Can't sleep either?"

"I sleep just fine. But lately this is the only time I really get for a good workout." He switched from curls to thrusting the weights out to his sides and back to his chest, over and over as Kate watched, realizing with real surprise that he did have a very large and well defined …

She shook herself again, looking away – for perhaps three seconds. "I can't sleep. I figured I'd do some running." She forced herself to move over to the treadmill, not to notice him. But when she got on, she noticed the blasted machine had been turned by someone, and right now it was facing right at Tim. Well, there was little that could be done now. She turned it on, and started to run right at him.

As she ran, she couldn't help noticing a lot of things she did not see when he was wearing his suit in the Squad Room, and as his body strained against the weights, she became almost uncomfortably aware that all she herself wore were a sports bra and very short shorts.

He stopped with the weights, putting them back into the rack, and for a moment she was relieved until he crossed to the bench press, and started adding weight disks to the bar set above it. She saw it was about 90 lbs to each side. He lay down, his legs on either side of the bench, positioned himself under the bar, got a firm grip and pushed.

Unfortunately for Kate, this new trial had him laying away from her so she looked up his straining body, and the very first thing she noticed where his partially spread thighs as he balanced himself. The shorts were not as tight as they ought to be. The weights emphasized his bare chest as he pushed them up and lowered them, and she watched the lines of his body, noticing all too clearly that his shorts were much, much too –

She slapped the emergency stop, and as the tread ground to a halt she was off it. "That's enough for me. I'm done!" She said, grabbing a towel to put around her neck as she headed for the door. He had been lowering the weights as she spoke, and set them in the clamp, sitting up.

"What kind of a workout is that?" He 'demanded'. She stopped, surprised by his 'outraged' tone.

"Huh? Excuse me?"

"A four minute run and you're _quitting_?"

"I'm tired." She 'insisted', trying not to look at him or his –

"You're quitting."

"So? What are you, my Coach?" She had never imagined McGee being so forceful.

"Yeah, I'll be your Coach. And that wasn't a workout; it wasn't even a warm-up."

"Look," she said, not even knowing why she was bothering to defend herself, "I'll work out any way I want." She turned on her heel, vastly annoyed.

"Quitter."

She stopped, turning back, exasperated. The first thing she noticed was the way the room lights caught the sheen of perspiration on his bare skin. He was only wearing those damned shorts, and: "I am _not_ a quitter."

He laughed. "I'll bet you couldn't even _handle_ a real workout."

Now she was really getting mad. She did not know why he was doing it, but how dare he mock her to her face? "I can handle anything you could throw at me."

He looked at the other half of the room, where multiple mats had been placed to form a padded area fifteen feet square. He looked back at her with a speculative grin. "How about a match?"

"Come again?"

He stood up, and she could not fail to appreciate the image he made. "A wrestling match. You do know how to wrestle, don't you?"

"Yes, I know. And I remember mopping the floor with you last time."

"I bet I can pin you three times in three minutes." She looked over his surprisingly hard body. For an instant, she couldn't keep her thoughts from flashing on being pinned under him in a way that had nothing to do with a gym. She pushed the image aside – hard – and shook her head.

"This is ridiculous. I'm going home and..." She started to turn away.

"Unless you're chicken."

She stopped dead. She turned slowly back to him, saying in her most deadly voice; "What did you say?"

"I think you're afraid. I challenged you and you run away. Chicken." She stared at him, trying to force down her outrage. Finally she got it under control and turned away again.

"Like I said, 'this is ridiculous'." She got about three steps when his high, falsetto reply stopped her.

"_Ba-gak_." She looked over her shoulder at him. "Buk – buk – buk – _ba-gak_."

Fury made her stalk back to him until she was right up to him and, looking up into his eyes, she yanked the towel from about her neck. "I'll mop the _floor_ with you." It occurred to her, a bit too late, that he was taller than she was, her eyes barely cleared his powerful shoulders, and he certainly had a longer reach than she did, but in that moment all she could think was "I'll make you eat your _ba-gak_!"

-

They stepped onto the mat together, stopping in its center, faced one another and adopted the classic opening position, left hand on upper arm, right behind the other's neck. She realized late how hot his hard, gleaming body was. "Go."

Where Tim was bigger, Kate had more speed and slipped under and past his grip, trying to get behind him but he turned with her. His body was slick and, shirtless, there was nothing for her to grab as they moved, each trying to catch and evade the other. Though he was slippery, she was wiry and used her speed and smaller stature to her best advantage, staying out of his grip while trying to get under his guard or trip him up.

It went on for about a minute of fast grips and evasions, twists and turns before he caught her by the back of her sports bra and pulled her into him, but she turned just in time, her arms catching his. They strained together, bodies pressed from knees to shoulders, arms straining against each other. She felt the hardness of his body as he started to use his greater height and leverage to slowly bend her backward.

Their eyes met and he whispered "Pin in thirty seconds."

Enraged, she started to fight harder, straining her body against his as she started to force her way back up, using all the strength her fury imparted against his. Inch by inch she forced herself upright, and felt a thrill of victory as she prepared to bend _him_ backward when he leaned in and kissed her.

She shoved him away, outraged. "_Foul_!" She cried, stepping back.

"No 'foul'. There's no rule against it." He returned with a grin. She noticed his laughing eyes on her, and looked down to where the sweat that was already making her body slick had pasted the sports bra to her, and against her wishes her body was displaying what her thoughts had caused. In the midst of this, she realized he was very probably right.

"Well, there _ought_ to be. Now play fair."

He reached out to her, crouching slightly, and she thought as she reached out for him that he had not promised, but with the first warning of his muscles moving under her hands she was moving again. Before she had been determined to stay out of his hands; now she was even more concerned about staying away from his lips.

-

She managed it for about thirty seconds of twists and turns, and then he caught her arm and pulled her into a bear hug. As she strained against his grip about her body, which was tight but not crushing, she tried to push away from his chest. His right hand slid down her back, and she was astonished when it slid all the way into her shorts, under her panties to cup the round cheeks of her bottom.

Outrage gave her the strength for a massive push as she shoved him away, grateful that his offending hand slipped back out of her shorts. He stopped about three feet away. "TIM!" She cried, furious. "How – You – How – I!" She couldn't get her thoughts out. "KEEP YOUR FU –!"

She barely saw it when he bent down and grabbed her behind her knees, yanking up so suddenly she cried out, barely managing to slap the mat in time as her back hit it hard, her head bouncing off the padding. She lay dazed for about a second, and was about to shake her head in an effort to clear it when she felt his hands grasp the waistband of her shorts and give a powerful pull.

She cried out, feeling the cloth yanked down her long legs and instinctively started rolling away, getting some distance from him before rolling to her feet, turning to face him. She was so outraged she couldn't even say anything, looking at him kneeling on one knee with her shorts in his hand.

Horrified, she put one hand down to block his view of her panties, and her horror was magnified when she felt her bare flesh and trimmed pubic fur an instant before he pulled her white panties from the shorts. "If you win this round, you can win your panties back." He told her, the look in his eyes telling her he was clearly enjoying the spectacle.

-

"You – you – Bastard." She let out a piercing shriek and dove at him, all thoughts of rules or regulated behavior driven from her. Astonished, he barely managed to brace himself before she slammed into him and they rolled over and over again in a tangle of furiously straining arms and legs.

The realization that his hands were all over her with no consideration of the match drove her wild, and she managed to get behind him, grabbed his own shorts and gave a furious pull, the sound of rending material loud in the room. A moment later she was only aware of holding a large piece of cloth in each raised hand an instant before he tackled her.

They rolled back onto the mat until their momentum was spent, but she was lying on her back with his hard body straining above her. She tried to turn again, but he got his feet between hers, and then his knees between hers and forced her legs wide apart between his so she could not roll. An instant later she became aware of his hands at her sides. He had a double grip of her sports bra and pushed up, the wet cloth pushed past her face and over her head, raising her arms high. He twisted the material, trapping her arms high, tied in her tight bra.

-

She strained against him but she was pinned under his weight, legs held wide open by his own spread thighs, and any movement only pushed her body against his hard flesh. The more she struggled, the more pinned she became until she felt his body shift up, and something touch her where she'd least expected it.

She fought harder, straining her arms until she started pushing his restraining hands up, letting her upraised and bound arms off the floor, but seconds later he shifted his weight up, her arms hit the mat again and she felt something invade her.

She cried out, raising her own hips to welcome the 'invasion' as her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, her ankles crossing and locking behind his back, giving him more access as she pulled her arms loose from his hands and the restraining bra and grabbed him tightly, crying out again as he moved even more strenuously and she almost screamed, feeling herself filled deeper than she had anticipated. It was clear there was more to the Agent than had ever met her eyes and she tightened her legs about him, shifting to welcome him deeper as she clung to him, her fingernails digging into his back as she used her legs to force him in even deeper, harder, setting a fast pace as she pulled him over and over, crying out under him each time.

She tried to keep from screaming, straining against him in a vastly different way than in their 'warm-up', welcoming his strength and power even as he 'forced' her. She cried out loudly as their pace increased and the fury of their efforts mounted. She pulled him to her as hard as she could, almost bruisingly as he buried himself ever deeper, ever more strenuously.

Suddenly, when he least expected it, she rolled over, keeping her grip about his waist as long as she could, never breaking their hard won connection but winding up with her on top, a position he was in no way inclined to change.

-

Now his efforts started to raise them off the floor and she returned greater efforts in pounding him back into the mat, riding him furiously, faster and louder as their hands again strained against one another's bodies as she moved with wild abandon.

It took many more minutes than either had expected before their straining bodies relaxed, spent. She still sat upon him, hands on his shoulders to hold herself upright, leaning over him as they panted, trying to regain their breaths. She caught his eyes upon her heaving chest. It took over a minute more before she could speak in a gasping whisper, her hands on his shoulders supporting her.

"You're _pinned_, Mr. McGee." She panted. "Game." She wiggled her hips, settling herself better on him, feeling him get even deeper. "Set." She clenched her muscles as tightly as she could, making him groan, his eyes looking like they were going to bulge out of his head. "Match."


End file.
